


Statues

by garglyswoof



Series: Unidentified [3]
Category: The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: also im the worst at titles how many single words can i use, elevator scene, go view luce's edit and you'll understand, just a blurb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-06-19 00:16:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15498048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/garglyswoof/pseuds/garglyswoof
Summary: A tiny elevator-scene in response to the most beautiful kastle tumblr edit ever.





	Statues

**Author's Note:**

> 1000% in response to this edit on tumblr, because luce's work is amazing and inspiring and everyone should go see it if they haven't already  
> http://lclrgsl.tumblr.com/post/167779152332/for-garglyswoof

Her hair is like silk beneath his palm, her skin softer still as his hand slides up her neck to cradle the base of her skull. Karen, with her implacable force of will held still for a moment in the shock of the explosion, is a study in contrasts. Her words had been spit through the radio waves to taunt, a hardness to her that made Frank shake his head in both concern and amazement. She had the balls to call out a killer, so here he was, with her hair sliding whisper-soft between his fingers, her eyes stuttering open only after her hand finds him.

There’s a million and one things that pass unspoken before he holds the gun to her head, and she holds herself rigidly in his grip as the guns cocked at Frank’s head track their progress towards the elevator. He worries about the cut on her forehead, wonders if the blood is all hers. The shrapnel in his arm thuds in time with his pulse as the elevator doors slide shut.

They let the ruse fall, their bodies sliding to opposite ends of the elevator for a moment before Karen’s hand reaches out, touching him as an anchor and a reassurance. _For both of them_ , he thinks, the pain a creeping haze. The alarm sounds and he nods, a reminder that there’s work to be done, and punches the elevator hatch open with his good arm. She’s saying something, his name, and the look on her face is the contrast he’s come to love from her, she’s pleading and confused and worried and angry and so hard and so, so soft.

When his eyes flick to her lips, her eyes, then back again in a battle he’s not ready yet to fight, he leans his forehead against hers, stone to marble smoothness, and he thinks that what he said to Sarah is less than what he meant.


End file.
